


Thud

by FanboyAsylum



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst, Blood and Gore, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Captain America: The Winter Soldier Spoilers, Character Death, Crying, Death, Gore, Internal Conflict, M/M, Mild Gore, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Not for the faint of heart, Sad, Tragedy, light gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 13:06:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1649699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanboyAsylum/pseuds/FanboyAsylum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With every shot you fired at him, every slash or stab of your blade, and every strike or blow you gave him, you got a nagging feeling in the back of your head. A persistent feeling that you weren’t supposed to be hurting the Captain. That you should protect him, help him, care for him. </p><p>No. That is not your objective. Your objective is to kill, eliminate, obliterate, no matter what it takes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thud

“Then finish it.” The Captain speaks weakly. It should give you satisfaction, reducing America’s greatest hero to nothing but a sniveling collection of bruises and lacerations. You try as hard as you can to be proud, but the tightness in your chest and pounding in your head makes it near impossible. 

“...’Cause I’m with you to the end of the line.” 

Your chest tightens further and your head is pounding so hard that your ears are ringing. You feel as if the air has been knocked out of you, leaving you unable to breathe. You can only stare at the Captain with a confused, frightened, maybe even worried expression before an explosion sounds behind you and the bottom level falls apart. The force of the explosion tilts the helicarrier away from the Potomac. You can see concrete pavement below you. 

Instinctively, you reach for the beam above you, grabbing the Captain’s hand before he even has the chance to descend. You don’t know why you do it, why it suddenly matters so much that you keep this man safe.

It’s not so sudden. With every shot you fired at him, every slash or stab of your blade, and every strike or blow you gave him, you got a nagging feeling in the back of your head. A persistent feeling that you weren’t supposed to be hurting the Captain. That you should protect him, help him, care for him. 

No. That is not your objective. Your objective is to kill, eliminate, obliterate, no matter what it takes. 

You look down at the Captain. You can see into his eyes. They mesmerize you. You feel as if you’re being dragged further and further down into the ocean. The deeper you descend, the more you can see. 

You see relief in the Captain’s eyes. Happiness and gratefulness. He smiles at you, thinking that you saved him purposely. You didn’t. It was all muscle memory and instinct. You weren’t even thinking. But now you are. 

Not even the Captain could survive this fall. He would fall 60,000 feet before crash landing onto the pavement, smashing his skull against the unforgiving surface and shattering every bone in his body, killing him on impact instantly. 

It would be so simple, to just let go. Loosen your grip, release his hand, and after a few seconds-- mission accomplished. It should be easy, it should be so simple, but as if the Captain can read your mind and hear your thoughts, his expression turns frightened, and slightly confused. 

“Bucky…” You hear him whisper, even over the sounds of the collapsing aircraft his voice is as clear as day to you. 

The Captain’s expression goes from frightened to terrified. He begins to beg and plead with you to hold on. Tears begin to stream down his face as he speaks louder, holding on as tight as he can to your hand. 

“Bucky, please! You’re my best friend, snap out of it! Please, just remember me…” The Captain is close to sobbing, but you block it out as best as you can. You focus on the objective, remind yourself that the Captain is nothing more than a target. 

You want to let go. You try, but your body betrays you, listening to your subconscious instead of you and your immediate thoughts. You keep trying, but your grip just becomes tighter and tighter.

You can’t let go. You can’t allow the Captain to fall. You know how it feels. 

You don’t know where these thoughts are coming from, or what they even mean. You fight them off harder than you would fight for you life. 

You get an idea. You slowly ease your hand up higher, now gripping the Captain’s fingertips. 

You can feel the small empty space in his glove where his fingertips don’t fully meet the fabric. 

You grip the spaces hard. You feel the Captain’s hand steadily begin to slip out of the glove. 

The Captain is near screaming now, but it becomes easier to tune out. You listen to the explosions, the destruction of the crumbling helicarrier. 

Destruction is familiar. This man is not. 

You continue to tell yourself that, until suddenly the weight in your hand is much lighter. 

You are holding only a leather brown glove. You hear one last scream before looking back down into the Captain’s eyes. 

His expression is no longer terrified, but shocked and agonized. His eyes are red rimmed and tear streaks cover his face. The scream fades away. 

He is falling towards the earth. He becomes too distant to hear. 

You watch as he becomes smaller and smaller. You don’t feel anything. You are glad. It’s over. You’ve completed your mission. You have won. 

The satisfaction doesn’t have time to settle in. 

You hear a loud thud. 

In reality, the sound can barely be heard from your position. It seems like your hearing becomes supersonic. 

The sounds of turmoil and destruction are muted, dulled. All you can hear is the sound of the Captain hitting the ground. Your ears ring once more. 

You stare down at the Captain’s body. You cannot see his face, only his red, white, and blue garb. At a closer glance, you can make out the short blonde hair, golden with a pool of red underneath. 

You don’t move, your expression is blank, you don’t even breathe. 

All you can think about now is the blood tarnishing the once pristine blonde hair. 

The Winter Soldier remains silent, only thinks, “Mission accomplished.” 

Bucky Barnes speaks. For the first time in over 70 years. 

“Steve?” He croaks.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, that was short, wasn't it? Sorry, this is actually my first real contribution to the fandom (Despite being in the Avengers fandom for 3 years and shipping Stucky since the first damn Captain America movie). I had this idea in my head for a while and figured, what the hell? I think it came out good, definitely better than the fics that I wrote and scrapped before. Let me know what you think!
> 
> My tumblr is fanboy-asylum: http://fanboy-asylum.tumblr.com
> 
> Feel free to send me a request!


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